


Posing

by Kim Gasper (mickeym)



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-06-15
Updated: 2000-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-08 15:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/pseuds/Kim%20Gasper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>MacLeod thinks he and Methos are in a rut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Posing

It was quiet inside the flat. Too quiet, actually. Methos set the bag of groceries on the counter, then opened the fridge to stash his beer. Chilled beer, one of the best inventions of the modern age. Bread into the box, fruits and veggies into their respective baskets. MacLeod got a little anal about the kitchen sometimes, but it wasn't anything he couldn't deal with.

The flat stayed quiet; the only movements other than his were the dust motes circling lazily in the pool of golden light spilling in through one partially open blind.

He waited for a minute, then called out. "Mac?" He knew MacLeod was around; he could feel the Immortal's presence hovering near him like an invisible other person. But he couldn't see him. And the flat they were staying in wasn't that big. "Where are you?"

"Back here. In the library." The voice was a little muffled, and Methos frowned. If Mac were in trouble, there'd be noise, at least. Maybe. Curiosity piqued, he headed down the short, narrow hallway. Half a dozen long-legged strides had him at the door, pushing it open, his jaw dropping down with no attempt to check it's fall as he came to a dead halt just inside the doorway.

"MacLeod?"

"Mmm?" A slow, lazy grin curved over Mac's face, probably at least partially from Methos' expression. But who could blame him, he wondered. How often did he come home to a fully naked, aroused MacLeod, who was...posing?

Methos took one step into the room and leaned against the wall, his eyes running over the other man, a slow, deep burning beginning in his belly and moving outward. MacLeod was lying back against a large, multi-cushioned chair, his legs spread, one pulled up against him, thigh muscles exhibited in bas-relief against the light olive skin.

"What...are you doing?"

"Variety is the spice of life, Methos. You of all people should know that." MacLeod's fingers traced lightly down his chest, over his belly, following the dark line of hair from navel to groin. _Treasure trail_. Methos' brain helpfully supplied the odd, but accurate nickname, his gaze caught and held prisoner by the fingers lightly stroking over it. He couldn't have looked look away if his life depended on it. He didn't want to.

"So, variety because...?" He could drown in those warm, dark eyes. A frisson of excitement slithered along his spine. Drowning was death, but what a way to go. MacLeod's fingers tangled in the thick, dark curls at the end of the treasure trail, teasing the base of his cock. Methos watched, his own fingers moving restlessly against his palms with his desire to touch.

"We're getting complacent. Lazy. Home in the evening, go to bed, fuck ourselves into oblivion, roll over and go to sleep." Muscles rippled beneath tanned skin when MacLeod flexed his arms, stretching back before resuming his stroking.

"So, the answer to this is to fuck ourselves silly in the library, in the daytime?" He could no more stop the snarky tone in his voice than he could stop watching MacLeod's slow, seductive movements.

Amusement glinted darkly in Mac's eyes. "It's a start. You have a better idea?" Long, strong fingers skimmed briefly over thick thighs, nails scraping lightly before returning to circle the base of MacLeod's cock.

His mouth went dry at the unspoken challenge, throat tightening as heat worked over his body; arousal in a pure, undiluted form, bringing his nipples up hard and tight under his shirt, making his cock throb against his jeans. He could feel it, electricity not unlike a quickening, reaching out to each part of his body.

"Not just at the moment," he muttered, the shiver throughout his body reflected in his voice.

Another long, smooth stroke skimmed Mac's hand from his throat all the way down to the thick erection rising between his legs. Methos cleared his throat roughly, drawing a smile across MacLeod's face.

"You want it? Come and get it, old man. Show me how bad you want it." Mac's voice was warm, laughing, seductive, and teasing. It made him want to snark back; it made him want to fuck MacLeod senseless.

The pose showed off all parts of Mac's body to its fullest, Methos decided. And the challenge in his lover's voice and eyes was enough to ignite flame without necessitating a match.

"Are you..._up_ to it...if I come and get it?" Methos deliberately dropped his voice, and raised one eyebrow, giving Mac another once-over. The tip of the other man's cock glistened with moisture in the soft afternoon light, making Methos' mouth water in anticipation of a taste.

He watched Mac watch him, seeing his eyes travel over the well-muscled figure posing before him. A low groan started in Methos' belly and worked its way up and out when MacLeod reached down with one hand and stroked slowly up the hard length of his erection, pausing to swirl his thumb over the wet tip. A sensation akin to electricity sizzled through him when Mac raised his thumb to his mouth and sucked at the moisture.

A hungry smile met his groan. "Want a taste?" Mac swirled his thumb over himself again, gathering more wetness. A hard tremble worked its way through him, and Methos swallowed roughly before nodding.

"Yes," he gritted out, moving in between Mac's widespread knees. He reached down and stroked a single finger over the large vein pulsing at the underside of the erect cock.

"You want it from here..." Mac flicked his tongue over his thumb, almost cat-like, then grinned. "Or from the source?"

Methos dropped to his knees and wedged himself into the vee between Mac's legs, body going hot with lust. "I prefer to drink from the source," he answered roughly, wrapping his fingers firmly around Mac's length.

He leaned in closer, filling his senses with MacLeod. The scent was darker here, a little heavier. Almost as if he could smell Mac's arousal as a physical thing. He breathed in deeply, memorizing the scent that was unique to this man. Salt, and musk, mixed with a fresh, earthy scent that made him think of mountains and wide-open spaces, and the diluted bleachy scent that heralded semen. Methos smiled up at Mac, a feral, hungry grin, and touched his tongue to the hot length in his hand.

Mac jerked when he licked down the long column, and a low chuckle rose from Methos'  
throat. "Hold still, Highlander. This was your challenge. Are you man enough to see it through?"

Mac whimpered once, a low, hungry sound, then nodded. "Do it," he said hoarsely, his fingers rubbing restlessly against his belly.

Methos focused on those fingers for a moment, then reached one hand up, threading his through. "Show me," he grinned. "How bad do _you_ want it, MacLeod?"

The sound that filled the air around them was like the wind through marshes at night, low, and eerie, soft and keening. Methos' grin spread when Mac touched his face, then the back of his head, fingers caressing through his hair briefly before pressing his face closer to the erection practically throbbing in front of him.

"Had it up a while, eh?" Methos whispered the soft taunt against straining flesh, then brushed his lips lightly up and down the length, adding a ghost of a laugh to make Mac quiver some more.

"Since...since you left," the words tumbled out in a breathless rush. "Decided to surprise...you..." Mac cupped his head in both hands, and even through the insulation of his hair Methos could feel the trembling in his lover's fingers. He grinned again, a hungry sound rising in his chest when he took the wet tip of Mac's cock into his mouth, drawing on it, flicking at the head with his tongue.

"Worked," Methos muttered, letting his mouthful go for a moment. He shifted position a little, then ran his hands up over the hard muscles of Mac's thighs, fingernails scratching lightly. A shiver worked its way through Mac's body, increasing the sizzle growing in his own. He'd held some of the world's most beautiful men and women in his arms during his lifetime. People who were accomplished in the art of seduction, of sex. But MacLeod managed to imprint more strongly than any of those, and Methos wasn't entirely certain why. He'd given up worrying at it in his mind, resigned to the fact that it must be something inherent to the man himself. Or perhaps to the chemistry between the two of them.

"About...time...." Mac's voice was a combination of panting and hoarse whispers, and when Methos pulled back a fraction, lean hips thrust forward to fill the space, to continue the friction. "Been tryin'...to surprise you...."

Methos jammed his mouth down fully on the thick cock, pulling a loud shout and convulsion of surprise from Mac, then worked upward, making his sucking as loud and crude as possible before pulling away to stare at the man sprawled before him. "You _never_ cease to surprise me, MacLeod. Don't every worry about that." He bared his teeth in a parody of a grin, watching the shudder that traveled the length of the MacLeod's body, ending in a soft groan. "Want it bad, don't you, Highlander."

Stating the obvious. Mac moved restlessly, canting his hips upward, thigh muscles straining, flat belly shifting. Not an imperfect inch anywhere on this man. Methos changed position, rubbing tense muscles, then running his hands beneath, fingertips skimming over the backs of Mac's thighs to cup his ass. And such a perfect ass it was, firm, muscled, the same light olive as the rest of the man, until he delved between those cheeks. Shadowy, yet lighter there than the rest of MacLeod, and hiding such a treasure. A treasure that welcomed him repeatedly. Methos shuddered with the need that rose with those thoughts, still amazed at times at what Mac wanted from him. He'd been fooled by the outer, public Mac, the one that seemed to shout to the world that he was the alpha male. That if any taking were to be done, he'd be doing it.

What Mac wanted...was to be fucked.

"Methos--" MacLeod squirmed beneath his questing hands, hips still rocking forward, upward, something-ward. Wanting his mouth, his hands, anything to relieve some of the pressure, some of the need. To relieve and rebuild, all at once.

Things Methos was more than happy to do for him.

"Be still," he muttered, fingers gripping firm skin and muscle more tightly. Mac's skin was damp now with sweat, the cleft between his cheeks slick and inviting. He wiggled one finger into the warm cleft, pressing lightly on the clenched opening hidden there. He bent his head to take Mac's cock in his mouth while his finger tapped and teased at the small aperture, coaxing it into loosening, into opening for him.

Both of them groaned when the tight muscle relaxed, the tip of his finger sliding inward, the first breach. The first sign of Mac's surrender.

"Please...I can't wait--." Tightness around his finger as Mac's body fought the intruder, fought the overwhelming pleasure. Methos swirled his tongue around the thick shaft, pulling up to release with a loud, wet noise. He licked his lips, feeling how they'd swelled, how they tasted slightly salty.

"Yes. You can. Easy, Mac." He licked, long and slow, down to the dark curls, then back up, hovering right over the oozing tip. "Go with it. Feel...it." One deep breath and he swallowed Mac down again, his finger pushing inward, the heat from MacLeod's body simultaneously everywhere on his, filling him, pushing him. He could drown here, he thought again, the idea sounding better each time it popped into his head. Drowned in MacLeod. There were definitely worse ways to go. Mac's hips were pumping steadily now, keeping in time with his sucking, and large, warm hands gripped his skull tightly, fingers feathered beneath Methos' hair. He could almost hear Mac's voice, thick and hoarse with need, chanting, "do it, do it, do it."

Heavy muscles were tensing beneath him; he would feel the tightening in the way Mac's body gripped his finger, the still-solitary digit working slowly, sensuously within the damp warmth. His body throbbed in time with Mac's, his cock stiff and painful behind his jeans, aching to be free, to plunge into something darker, tighter, and far warmer than any place else imagined. And so tight when MacLeod's body contracted with orgasm--. He forced himself to pull back, hearing Mac's groan, feeling it echoing through him.

"Sonofa-- _Why_, Methos?" Hoarse, pleading, anger mixed with arousal, Mac's voice matched his eyes; so dark, so hungry, Methos felt his own hunger ratchet up a notch or two. The broad, deep chest heaved, hips still pumping upward.

"Because." Quick movements to gain his feet, his hands ripping at the buttons on his jeans, at the shirt still neatly tucked in. Hunger surged through him, so hot it might be a quickening. His breath caught at that, remembering the feeling of absolute need that followed those moments. "Because I want...I want to feel your body around mine when you come."

It didn't take him long to toss his clothes and shoes haphazardly, then he was standing before MacLeod, his erection pulsing with need, his body practically thrumming with desire. He rubbed his palms over his chest, nipples contracting tightly when he brushed over them. Down over his belly, muscles rippling pleasurably from the gentle touch. Down to his groin, Mac's eyes dark and hot as he watched. Methos stroked one finger downward, teasing himself, arching into the light touch. Mac's tongue slipping over the tip of his cock pulled a low groan from him. So good, so exquisite, it was almost painful.

"Fuck me, Methos." The words were whispered against his cock, tongue teasing the thin skin where his pulse fluttered wildly. "Now."

A shudder ripped through him when Mac reached under the cushion of his chair and pulled out a small tube. He reached for it, his words coming hot and hoarse now. "Still issuing challenges, Highlander?"

"I know better." A wry grin, deformed by arousal, pulled the corners of Mac's mouth upward. He shifted backward, opening his legs, pulling them up to expose himself to Methos' hungry gaze.

"I doubt that." The lube was cool against his fingers; the only bit of coolness anywhere on his body. Methos grinned, his lips turned upward more in hunger than amusement, civilized traces disappearing as his need grew stronger. He spread the cool gel over his cock, gritting his teeth as it pounded in time with his heart. Mac was far from passive in their shared bed, but the fact that he'd been waiting for Methos, hard and ready, initiating this moment, made Methos burn. "Turn around," he said roughly, watching impatiently while Mac did. He reached to grip firm cheeks, to spread them open, shuddering once when the other man pushed back, the small hole pulsing tightly closed, then open once, winking at him. Teasing? Oh, he could tease, too. He spread Mac further, then leaned close. "Ready?"

"Ohhh, God--!" Not quite words, more than a sigh, MacLeod shivered and twisted his hips imperceptibly when Methos' tongue teased down the slick cleft. "Please, Methos...please."

"Not yet," he whispered, one hand slapping lightly at a muscled cheek. "Your challenge, Mac." He flicked his tongue over the small opening, teasing the ridged, puckered skin, then darted away to stroke and lap higher, lower, away from the highly sensitive spot. Back again, nipping gently, sucking on the tender skin, listening to Mac howl when he stabbed his tongue against the guardian muscle, stabbing wetly until he breached him once more.

"G-good." Mac's words faded into an incoherent sound, a sob of need. He arched, pushing back against Methos' tongue, groaning hotly when Methos pulled back, maintaining only the barest of contacts. "Please."

"Yes. Oh, yes." Methos doubted Mac even heard his soft whisper; more likely, he felt it as increasing heat, a gentle breeze intended to fan the flames. He spread his lover widely, licking and sucking with wild abandon, feeling the tension in Mac's body climb higher, the throb of his own arousal matching it. When he judged the other man was right on the edge, he drew away slowly, hands never leaving the warmth of Mac's hips, holding him steady. The only sound now was ragged breathing and hoarse whimpers, and when he smiled, Methos knew it was the teeth baring of a predator going for the kill. "Gonna fuck you, Mac. I need to, so bad."

A rough sound, then Mac arched his back, shifting his legs further apart in preparation. Methos shuddered, rubbed some more of the gel onto the wet, loosened opening, and snugged up close to the hot body. It was like embracing an inferno might feel, fluid heat rippling everywhere, ready to hold him, to take him into more heat. He felt no resistance when he pushed forward; Mac's body flexed, the muscles relaxing, the guardian opening smoothly for him. He slid inside, gasping at the sudden increase in heat, at the tightness of the velvet reaching out to clasp him, to draw him in further.

He could spend the next millennium doing this, being drawn into Mac's body in this manner, and it probably wouldn't be enough.

"You're so hot," he whispered, leaning over Mac's body to lick at the droplets of sweat ringing one ear. "So hot, so tight. So _good_." Shudders rippled through the other man, massaging Methos, buried deep inside. He groaned, then flicked his tongue out to rim Mac's ear. "I know you like this; like me buried inside, holding you close. Tell me, MacLeod. Tell me how much you like it."

"Would...would I have waited...if I didn't?" Ah, he could talk, then. Methos smiled, bit the ear gently, and rocked his hips forward. "Fuck--"

"Exactly, Mac. I'm going to fuck you." He slid back, shivers prickling his skin, raising goose bumps. Another rocking motion, Mac's hips sliding backward as he moved forward. Perfect rhythm. He reached around the trim waist, stroked once down the treasure trail, finding his way to Mac's cock, impossibly erect, throbbing and wet with need. "Come for me, Mac. Let it all go."

It was a ballet of need and heat, and as he lost himself into it, Methos felt Mac's control slip a few more notches, letting him get lost in there as well. Their hips pumped in time together, perfectly in sync, a rhythm they knew instinctively; a rhythm older than Methos himself. Time ceased, sped up, moved around them as a fluid thing, while heat consumed them, wrapped them in a cocoon of sensuality, of sex, of love. It was gentle and tender, then raw and primal, moving from one to the other effortlessly. He heard himself whisper crude words, then gentler promises, mixing the two liberally. His hand stroking MacLeod's cock grew wet with precome, and the scent rising around them turned thick, musky, heady. He leaned in and bit Mac again, sucking on the salty skin wet with sweat. "I need this...need you."

"Methos--" It sounded nearly like panic; Methos stroked faster, knowing it was only resistance to the end of the dance.

"Let it...go." He was shaking with the effort of staying balanced on the edge, waiting for the explosion that would trigger his. "Now, Mac...now!"

The high, keening howl seemed to echo inside the small room, gaining strength and size, and moving into his head, echoing over and over until he grew dizzy with it. Mac's body seized his, tightening around his aching cock until there wasn't any choice left; he had to let go himself, had to let it all out. All the love, want, desire, need; all the hunger, grown fierce and rough in its intensity. Methos added his howl to Mac's, thrusting forward hard and fast, burying himself at the last, holding there as he spent himself deep inside the straining body, Mac's seed hot and thick on his fingers. He groaned quietly and fell forward, his head resting on Mac's, bodies pressed together as their chests heaved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The only sound in the small room was their breathing; harsh, fast pants mixed with softer sighs and moans as their bodies continued to spasm and shiver. Methos tucked himself all around Mac, holding tightly as they wound down from the post-orgasmic high. Mac's fingers were white where he clutched the top of the chair, and Methos stroked them with his own, startling a small chuckle out of the other man.

"Kind of intense," he muttered, rubbing his head against Methos'.

"Y'think?" He smothered a grin, having to bite his lip to keep it in, then slid off of Mac. He hated the separation part; whether still partially erect and *moving* out of a lover's body, or completely soft, and forced out, he still disliked it. And unlike with women, with a male lover he couldn't really stay inside until erect again. The strength of the interior muscles were too strong. He stifled a groan when he stood up straight; his legs were still shaky. Mac shifted carefully, turning around, not leaving the chair, just resuming the position - nearly - he'd been in when Methos got home. He stared up at Methos, a bemused smile on his face, and Methos reached down, touching Mac's mouth gently. "Hey."

"Yeah?" The smile faded, something almost like wariness creeping into the dark eyes.

"This." Methos leaned in, settling one knee onto the chair, between Mac's, moving close enough that his breath could ghost over Mac's mouth. He licked once, tongue teasing over the seam between Mac's lips, then wiggling in between them, tasting the rich flavor of his lover's mouth. They hadn't kissed once yet. Just...rutted, like animals in heat. A smile curved his mouth, and he felt an answering one curving Mac's.

"What?" Full, sensual lips were still smiling at him, and Methos grinned, shook his head.

"Nothing. C'mere." He shifted around, kneeling over Mac, opening his mouth fully, coaxing his lover with gentle brushes, then firmer presses, until the lush mouth under his opened completely, welcoming him in. A soft groan came from Mac's chest, swallowed by the kiss, disappearing into nothingness. Mac's arms came up to hold him tight, and Methos leaned into the embrace, his fingers buried deep in the soft thickness of Mac's hair.

The kiss tumbled from rough to tender, then back again, tongues sliding over slick surfaces, pausing to play with one another before leading the chase on again. They moaned and gasped into each other's mouths, bodies rubbing and sliding, still slick with sweat from the first round, new sweat from the intensity of this adding to the mix. Methos broke the kiss to bite hard on the long, straining tendons of Mac's neck, sucking roughly on the bite when the other man shook and moaned.

"I like it like this, with you," Methos whispered roughly, licking furiously at the red spot that was fading even as he watched. "I like it hard, and soft, and rough, and I like to hold you while you shake in my arms." He took Mac's mouth without waiting for a reply, a new thread of hunger forming within him. When they were gasping again, he pulled back, one hand staying, cupping Mac's face. "I need it," he finished quietly, watching the other man.

"I do, too," Mac offered, eyes dark and serious. Methos smiled briefly; the words themselves were hard for both of them to say; he doubted they'd said it a dozen times between them. He leaned in and kissed Mac again, harder this time, a kiss full of the sexual energy beginning to stir in him again, then pulled back, slipping off the chair. He stretched a hand out.

"You want to try this in the living room? Or maybe the kitchen? You'd look good on the countertop, I think."

Mac's voice came out in a low growl. "Methos--"

He laughed and pulled the other man up. "Come on, Highlander. Let's see where else you can pose. I don't think I'm done admiring, just yet."

~Finis~


End file.
